


Manakete in the streets, Asleep in the sheets

by Nearlyall



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU where Linardt is way more related to That Family than anyone realized, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, canon compliant battlefield at the beginning, cuddling eventually, dragon!linhardt, is that the right term?, manakete!Linhardt, see green hair, sorry for the cliff hanger, sounds more accurate to me, specifically the ones involving Flayn's uncles, spoilers for paralogues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-27 10:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nearlyall/pseuds/Nearlyall
Summary: When Flayn falls in battle, Linhardt experiments with trying to use a greater version of the crest he already has. Something goes wrong and he ends up stuck as a dragon. Turns out he had a little more reason to have green hair than anyone realized.





	1. An Unfortunate Crest Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for at least 3 of the four routes I think? Haven't decided which one this takes place in yet.

He hated battlefields. Hated the smell of blood and the way it made things sticky. Hated putting the effort to avoid his own being spilled, and healing, and hurling black magic.

He’d never admit it, but the worst part was watching friends risk their own lives to defend him. He was, what’s the word Caspar used again? Squishy. He could handle himself, but the idea of some big wyvern bearing down on him only results in one ending statistically.

To have Flayn, better with a spear than he is or not, be the one to save him. Someone he had befriended, even spent time with intentionally when he could’ve napped.

This was clearly unacceptable.

Watching her go down, a spill of red down the white of her priestly attire, he decided that it was an unacceptable loss. He hears Caspar and Lysithea both yelling from nearby but ignored them, rushing to pull out bandages and bringing white magic to life dancing across his fingers.

He roughly tries to stop the bleeding with one hand pressing the bandages into the wound, the other focusing on maintaining the spell. But he could tell it wasn’t working. His minor Crest kicks in and it barely does anything to close up the gash.

He startles as an armored rests on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Caspar looking down over his work. “Mercedes told me to give you a medicine bottle you made last week. Said you might be running low.”

Lin steadies a bit at the comforting presence of his best friend, motioning for the concoction. “It may help me enough to steady her. Give it here.”

He’d argued with others amongst the healers about how necessary a large number of healing vials were, and how much work it took to make them. Maybe it was more efficient to conserve energy and heal on the spot using their own magic. After all how could he go into battle after an entire day with no naps! So barbaric, he’d thought at the time. But he’d gone along with it after feigning annoyance and was thankful now.

He poured it over the wound, looking up and around at the state of the battle. It was clear that either Flayn would have to heal enough to wake up and move, or they’d need to find someone to help move her without making the wounds worse.

And his magic wasn’t enough.

He’s lucky he has the world’s best distraction on his side. “Caspar, can you ensure no one gets close? I need time.”

There’s a pause in the response as Caspar looks over the battlefield. “Yeah...yeah, I can do that. But we might need someone to fly her out. I can try and flag someone down in a bit.”

“If you can, I’ll gladly take the help.” But for now, he needs to focus. He’d had this idea for an experiment before, but it felt a little silly to bring it up to Flayn at the time. But now...well. All it required was her blood and there was more than enough of it around. As horrible a sight as it was, it was awfully convenient.

It barely takes a moment to tune out the world. With enough practice, any amount of noise could be ignored. He had plenty of practice from naps or studying. Or naps. It wasn’t necessarily wise on the battlefield, but regardless he needed it now.

Linhardt clasps one of her hands in his, doing his very best to ignore the blood in between, and focuses on what his crest normally feels like, and prays that maybe he can gain access to hers as well. There was nothing stronger for healing magic and if he could tap into it because it was the same crest just stronger….well it might change a lot of things in the future. And one very big thing right now.

That’s what he’d thought. And his hypothesis wasn’t technically wrong.

He can feel his crest like usual at first, pulsing faintly with white magic. The boost that it provides always helpful if inconsistent.  
  
Flayn’s crest faintly comes into view in his mind’s eye. Much stronger, despite how frail the girl herself was. He tries to grasp it, but it is almost too big to grasp. Like trying to hold onto an adult’s hand as a child and only being able to grasp a finger or two. He wasn’t meant to have this.

So Linhardt grabs whatever piece he can and pushes all his white magic into Flayn hoping it triggers even a little.

The first faint pulse of power running through him is a surprise. Maybe his crest activated and it was more than he’d thought. So much energy coming out of it, he’s sure to need a nap later.

The second pulse makes it clear, however, that he might’ve made a grave error.

The third and he loses control of the spell. It warps in his hands and he’d be much more afraid if he couldn’t tell it wasn’t hostile. Some experiment this was turning out to be.

Back on the battlefield, Caspar turns around when the ground starts rumbling and is immediately blinded by the white-green energy surrounding the two healers. Forced to look away, he realizes quickly that it's as good a distraction as any to attack the enemy facing towards it.

_That's the kind of thinking I bet I can tell Lin about later,_ he thinks to himself smugly_. Whatever kind of healing stuff he's doing, it's going to help us both ways by the time he's done. _All his enemies hear is yelling and the cut of his axe that they have to squint to see, for the next solid minute. 

He'd put his trust in Linhardt's magic over his fear of the unknown anytime. It's been years since their school days and there was no way he was going to start doubting him now. They'd seen and been through too much for him to doubt that the magic was going according to anything less than Lin's plan.

And Caspar sincerely hoped he was right, but the only magic users good enough to help right now were just as busy as he was defending whatever was happening back there.

It's only another minute before there's a shift in the air pressure. He can feel the way all his enemies flinch and gets one more attack in before backing off. He needs to go back. Something's off about the situation and he's not good at magic enough to figure it out, but he turns to see if the light's faded enough to spot his friend when he realizes just how big it's gotten. Big and dark and green, and winged.

Bless Caspar's heart - the first thought he had was _"Oh my goddess. A demonic beast just sat on Linhardt."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar gets caught up on the situation.

The first thing Linhardt notices is the height. He has always been on the tall side, but blinking his eyes open and adjusting he feels like he’s looking down from the top of one of the various towers back at Garreg Mach down into the canyons below. It’s a lot to see- many people running in the opposite direction when he’d been sure the tide of battle had been moving this way. 

His view moves in more of an arc when he turns his head, making him very much aware of the added height while he’s somehow also on the ground. There’s something distinctly odd about the way his vision sweeps, how far he sees, how clear his vision is. He’s never needed glasses but this is different.

There’s a certain amount of instinct taking over to compensate for his confusion, knowledge that must’ve already existed somewhere deep down to use his tail to keep balanced and spread his wings just a bit. It’s clumsy but easy enough he can’t help but think of 

White magic couldn’t possibly be responsible for this, but he doesn’t remember using black magic. All he remembers is his spell going haywire when he’s trying to help- oh! Did he successfully heal Flayn? He certainly hopes it worked since there’s not enough power in him left to try again.

Linhardt’s head hurts, like a hangover but not quite as bad. It feels more like the exhaustion of studying all night and running out of magic. 

Craning his head down to get a better look he thinks “I could nap for an age…” but he doubts he actually cool despite how he feels. Maybe if he sleeps the magic will end and he’ll be back to normal?

Flayn is fully healed, which is a great addition to his hypothesis right now. His part of the situation adds more questions than answers. But before that line of questioning can even be fully explored or he can wake Flayn a familiar yell startles Linhardt.

“Get away from them you big feathery monster!” 

Linhardt whips his head around, looking for the bright blue hair only to get an axe hitting his nose hard enough to send him reeling and back away from Flayn. He isn’t coordinated enough to stop himself from rearing up, but his wings spread to help balance. 

It hurts more in an offensive way, and he can’t help the way his feathers poof out in anger. This is absurd. This whole situation is absurd. Why him instead of Flayn? It’d be so much easier if he was unconscious on the ground right now and not having to explain to this blue-haired idiot what’s happening.

He opens his mouth to speak, only for Caspar to see it as an opening and go further on the offensive. Slashing a second axe towards a clawed foot on the ground. This time it hurts a great deal more, hitting a sensitive spot near a claw and causing Linhardt to cry out.

It comes out as a roar. It didn’t feel that loud, but the reaction was clear. Caspar backed off with hands covering his ears, glowering.

“Stop that! It is just me.” Linhardt backs up to give more space. Hopefully his voice will help, but he can hear how much deeper it is. It sounds wrong, but maybe it’s close enough. And he doesn’t want to accidentally step on him or Flayn nearby.

There’s yelling behind him and he realizes Caspar isn’t the only one having issues with this sudden change. A small herd of wyvern and pegasus riders were approaching and he was rapidly beginning to feel like this was a much worse position than he’d first realized.

There was a temptation to just leave, but rationally that would make things worse wouldn’t it? So he kept his eyes on the blue haired man below, who was looking more confused than anything at this point. Not making sudden movements towards anyone or anything, the response is yelled back at him.

“Demonic beasts can’t talk. Why’s only one of our healers here? We had another!”

“Caspar, my experiment did something...wrong. I am Linhardt. I promise.” There’s a bit of distress entering his tone. Deeper or not, there’s absolutely no way he’s lying and he hopes it shows. This isn’t exactly how he planned for this to work.

“How do I know that’s true?”

“If I wasn’t I probably would’ve stepped on you on purpose by now.”

“You’re going to have to prove it!”

The distress slowly starts turning into annoyance. How bothersome could this get? It’s clearly him! Linhardt’s pretty sure no one else around did anything big and magical lately. Unless someone else goes around making giant lights and telling people to give him time, there really is only one person he ostensibly could be.

“I could still step on you. And then take a nap. It’d be less effort.”

For some reason, Caspar immediately relaxes on hearing that. He thought it’d take a lot more convincing after being asked for proof.

“You could’ve started with that! I thought you’d killed...you. Yourself. Or injured at least!”

Lin snorted. Of course Caspar had been worried. It was rather cute if he had to admit it, and he most certainly didn’t have to.

“I don’t think I’m dead. So that is a point in my favor,” he replies. He’d lean on Caspar physically if he were himself, but the closest he can do is gently lean his nose forward to boop his chest. He’s fine. Things are fine. Just weird.

The now extremely short in comparison man turns bright red, flailing for a solid minute unsure of how to respond. Where do hands go when you’re booped in the chest by a dragon?! “I get that now! You can’t blame me for being worried when you’re the squishy one!”

Deciding to ignore the teasing he shoves lightly away from the dragon boop and turns around to pick up Flayn. 

“We need to move. This was just the middle of a battlefield, and we need to explain so no one tries to stab you.”

“You already tried to stab me.”

“So no one else tries to stab you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaning towards Verdant Wind (Claude ending) as the Byleth route this takes place in. Mostly because I know that Claude loves wyverns.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos last chapter. This is my first fic in a very long time so I really appreciate it.

**Author's Note:**

> Good at Summaries.  
Good at Titles.  
Good at AU ideas.
> 
> Pick one?
> 
> No but seriously namateans were a huge culture right? It doesn't make sense that there's only four people total who are left. I'm sure some of them married humans and there's tons of them that just don't know. Makes sense for Linhardt to be one because of both his crest and his hair. 
> 
> And also I prefer the idea of him and Flayn being family to their actual A support. Give Flayn siblings!!!


End file.
